I dropped my daughters favorite cup...
James Dean was laying at my door
his face was shattered on the floor
I was trying to glue the handle back on the cup
before it slipped from my hands
I didn't seem to understand
I've been pushed aside, and over a fence

a light bulb moment happened next
and some things began to make some sense

I have been sentenced
for my so called sins
In "once upon" I had a shot
like the legend in Camelot
not perfect - no, not at all you see
but it was when I felt they may have loved me.
When I used to matter
before they dropped me
and, I shattered
I have fallen into a wall of silence
The cup is just a symbol
a sign, or - symptom
of all the blaming, and shaming
that can happen
in a twisted triangulation
a kind of strangulation --
there's always one broken cup in a family
they're the chosen one
to choke out all the darkness that's taken place
a sacrifice for all the wrongs that your ancestors have done.

it's all been passed down from face to face
generation after generation
my soul finding its way to this great nation
I was chosen long ago
by someone I do not know

I am a broken cup
I am glueing myself together...
it doesn't matter what they say
even though I've been castaway
I've decided that I'm okay
I know inside
that I am good
and, what matters most--
is that I know I'm kind.